The Definite Object eBook

“Just the one woman I want to be my own for
ever and always, more—­far more than I have
ever wanted anything in my life.”

“But,” she whispered, “I am only—­”

“The best, the noblest I have ever known.”

“But a—­scrubwoman!”

“With dimples in her elbows, Hermione!”
In one stride he was beside her, and she, because
of his light tone, must turn at last to glance up at
him half-fearfully; but those grey eyes were grave
and reverent, the hands stretched out to her were
strangely unsteady, and when he spoke again, his voice
was placid no longer.

“Dear,” he said, leaning toward her, “from
the very first I’ve been dying to have you in
my arms, but now I—­I dare not touch you
unless you—­will it so. Ah, don’t—­don’t
turn from me; let me have my answer—­look
up, Hermione!”

Slowly she obeyed, and beholding the shy languor of
her eyes, the sweet hurry of her breathing, and all
the sighing, trembling loveliness of her, he set his
arms about her, drawing her close; and she, yielding
to those compelling arms, gave herself to the passion
of his embrace. And so he kissed her, her warm,
soft-quivering mouth, her eyes, her silken hair, until
she sighed and struggled in his clasp.

“My hair,” she whispered, “see—­it’s
all coming down!”

“Well, let it—­I’d love to see
it so, Hermione.”

“Should you? Why then—­let me
go,” she pleaded.

Reluctantly he loosed her, and standing well beyond
his reach, she shook her shapely head, and down, down
fell the heavy coils, past shoulder and waist and
hip, rippling in shining splendour to her knees.
Then, while he gazed spellbound by her loveliness
she laughed a little unsteadily, and flushing beneath
his look, turned and fled from him to the door; when
he would have followed she stayed him.

“Please,” she said, tender-voiced, “I
want to be alone—­it is all so wonderful,
I want to be alone and—­think.”

“I may see you again to-night, Hermione?
Dear—­I must.”

“Why, if you must,” she said, “how
can I—­prevent you?”

Then, all at once, her cool, soft arms were about
his neck, had drawn him down to meet her kiss, and—­he
was alone with the pastry board, the rolling-pin and
the flour-dredger—­but he saw them all through
a golden glory, and when he somehow found himself
out upon the dingy landing, the glory was all about
him still.

CHAPTER XVII

HOW GEOFFREY RAVENSLEE MADE A DEAL IN REAL ESTATE

The morning sun blazed down, and Tenth Avenue was
full of noise and dust and heat; children screamed
and played and fought together, carts rumbled past,
distant street cars clanged their bells, the sidewalks
were full of the stir and bustle of Saturday; but Ravenslee
went his way heedless of all this, even of the heat,
for before his eyes was the vision of a maid’s
shy loveliness, and he thrilled anew at the memory